


Mr. Holmes

by thescienceofsherlolly



Category: Mr. Holmes (2015), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, I like the idea of a time travelling Ian McKellen, Mr. Holmes AU, Sherlocks are Bad at Feelings, sort of, this one is hard to tag, visiting different Sherlocks and gushing about Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 21:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: Aged ninety three, Sherlock Holmes meets Molly Hooper and he has some wrongs to right.





	Mr. Holmes

Molly Hooper, who had just polished off her second glass of wine, stood staring at the distinguished gentleman in her doorway. He leaned heavily on a cane, his blue eyes shining brightly beneath a top hat; if she was to guess, she’d say he was in his early nineties. Having finally found her voice, Molly swallowed sharply.

“You’re Sh-Sherlock?” She hated the childish squeak in her voice even if it did make the stranger smile, an oddly familiar smile. She was hallucinating! She had to be. Nevertheless, she shook her head, “how can you be?”

“Long story and I don’t have much time…,” the man stated sharply, striding past her cautiously, removing his hat to tuck beneath his arm, “not your Holmes, obviously. There’s many of us.”

“O-okay,” Molly blinked, snapping her door closed. She wrung her hands, at a loss with what to do with them, “erm, can I get you a drink?”

The old stranger – Mr. Holmes – took a seat in her armchair, resting his hat in his lap and clasping his hands in the pose she’d seen many times. Definitely hallucinating. Suddenly overcome with dizziness, Molly sat herself on her sofa, watching her visitor apprehensively. Moments of silence passed before Mr. Holmes spoke again.

“You’re single.”

Molly frowned, “yeah.”

Mr. Holmes sighed and shook his head, appearing to mutter under his breath. He looked up at Molly and narrowed his eyes.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

Molly didn’t quite know how to answer; there was nothing wrong with Sherlock Holmes as far as she was concerned. Yeah, he could be insensitive and obnoxious but one could hardly blame him after all the world had put him through. Molly shrugged, a soft smile on her face.

“Nothing. Not to me.”

“Mmm,” Mr. Holmes surveyed Molly over his fingers, smiling to himself, “I stopped her wedding. Fifty years ago.”

Molly stared at the empty wine glass she’d left on her coffee table, swallowing thickly, “maybe this is the timeline where it doesn’t happen.”

“We’re not that foolish, Margaret,” Mr. Holmes chuckled deeply, struggling to his feet. He popped the hat onto his head and looked down at the pathologist, “I lost her. I’m here to make sure that never happens again.”

Molly smiled quickly as the older gent began to shuffle across to her door; she scurried after him and blocked his exit, hands placed on her hips accusingly.

“That’s it? What am I supposed to do?”

“Not much if that’s anything to go by,” he indicated her flashing phone with a gesture of his hand, the other clutching his cane tightly. He looked her over one last time, tipping his hat delicately, “have a wonderful life together, Margaret.”

He was gone before she could give her goodbyes; she closed her door slowly, pondering her rather confusing meeting. Molly gathered her phone, reading the many texts her one and only consulting detective had bombarded her with.

**We need to talk. SH**

**About Sherrinford if it wasn’t clear. SH**

**Rosie isn’t sleeping. May I stay? SH**

**No. Best not. We do need to talk. SH**

**On my way. SH**

That night, when Sherlock snuck into her room and crawled into bed beside her, Molly was ready for him. She rolled over and snuggled close to him, her arms sliding around his slim waist; he momentarily froze but quickly recovered and snaked his own arms around her, one hand clutching her hip and the other winding into her hair to pull her close enough to plant a loving, tender kiss on her forehead.

“We need to talk. But not yet,” Molly mumbled into his shirt, looking up into his eyes; she gently stroked his cheek, bringing her gaze onto her. She smiled, “all you need to know is that I love you. I always have and I always will.”

After a moment, he nodded and she rested her head against his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat, his fingers slowly combing through her hair. He moved his lips to her hair, whispering against her skin.

“I love you, too, Molly.”


End file.
